Why I quit Facebook (and you should too)

On Friday evening, under a full moon, I lit a candle, gathered my thoughts in a moment of silence, and clicked on the big blue button. It felt odd - and made me giddy, perhaps a bit lightheaded. I crossed over, entering a digital bardo, becoming a ghost. I had successfully committed Facebookicide.

What made me want to delete myself from the planet's most popular social network, just as it sits on the edge of acquiring its five hundred millionth member? This was not a decision I made lightly. I'd been mulling over the pros and cons for some weeks, as I watched people I respect, such as Cory Doctorow, make the decision to delete themselves.

Finally, on Friday the 21st of May, the Wall Street Journal published the results of a stunning bit of investigative journalism: Facebook had been caught sharing confidential user data with advertisers, data they were bound to hold in closest confidence. That was the last straw.

Facebook, with its 400-million plus members constantly adding their thoughts and wishes to an ever-expanding commonweal, already sits on the largest and most valuable mound of marketing information ever collected by humanity. This, apparently, was not enough. Facebook had to go beyond what we had already given them freely, to open other, darker boxes. Nothing uploaded to the site, no matter how closely held, or carefully locked down with the confusingly broad range of privacy settings, seemed safe from the clutches of Facebook's partners.

Yes, Facebook needs to make a buck - I get that. But Google manages to do just fine without peering into my sock drawer. Facebook should be able to run rings around Google; it's now one of the busiest websites in the world, its advertising revenues are north of a billion dollars a year, and it has detailed demographic information on everyone who logs in. Yet, despite all this, Facebook could not resist the temptation to steal. That's not merely unbelievable - it's nearly pathological.

But then, what else can we expect of an organisation born in chaos and fury? Mark Zuckerberg, founder and poster boy for Facebook, lifted the idea from some friends, then joked about the 'dump f--ks' who eagerly handed over all of their private data. Zuckerberg has publicly stated that he believes in a world without privacy, a beautiful new place were we all live our lives utterly revealed in the blinding light of day. It's an interesting thought - and philosophically worthwhile to entertain - but that's not really what Zuckerberg means. Don't look at what he says; look at what he does.

Facebook is one of the most secretive companies operating on the Internet. The idea of privacy clearly has appeal to Zuckerberg and Facebook. Zuckerberg is really working toward an asymmetric state of affairs, where individuals lose their privacy while corporations and governments retain theirs. There's a word for that: slavery.

Privacy is the foundation of freedom. Without private space to think, to reflect, and yes, to share, we can have no private action, no individual agency. Privacy is dangerous, but privacy is not criminal. It is necessary for the healthy functioning of a democracy. We should resist anyone who proclaims 'the death of privacy', because they are a proxy for interests who would seek to control us, to corral us by our needs, or separate us by whom we choose to conspire with.

If all this sounds theoretical, let me bring it down to earth: it's well established that individuals start and quit smoking in groups, that is, these behaviors spread through social networks. What would a tobacco company do if it had access to Facebook's user data, and it wanted to slow the rate at which smokers' quit, or perhaps up the rate at which teenagers start? They'd have the perfect tool to do their dirty little deeds - and perhaps they already have. We don't know, and Facebook isn't telling.

So leave already.

I know, I know, Facebook is where all your friends are, where you've spent hours and hours building up your social graph, forging connections with long-lost school buddies, far-flung relatives, and former work colleagues. You have an investment, and you're reluctant to leave that behind. Facebook knows this, too, and has made it nearly impossible for you to take your social graph elsewhere, another perfect example of how they really value secrecy over openness. Facebook is a bit like the Hotel California: you can check in any time you like, but you can never leave.

Knowing all of this, it was easy to press the self-destruct button, a genuine release. Oh, my profile will float around in limbo for two weeks as Facebook gives me a 'cooling off period' to rethink my decision. Should I choose to log in again, all will be forgiven, and my profile fully restored. But that's not going to happen. I will deny Facebook the most important things I have to offer - my presence and my energy - and use both in a search for another way of sharing with the people I like and trust, one which doesn't leave me open to a mind-rape.

I don't expect many of you will leave today. There's almost nowhere else to go. But a few of you will do the sums, and understand, as I do, that no website, no matter how useful, is worth this. We need to start over, with some important lessons learned about privacy and the intrinsic value of human connections. I take heart in the fact that every one of the Internet's 'walled gardens' - of which Facebook is merely the latest incarnation - have eventually collapsed. Facebook is having its day, but memento mori.

In the meantime, those of us who quit Facebook have a job before us: we need to forge a path to a connection that does not come at the cost of ourselves, a path that all our friends and families and colleagues will eventually follow.

Mark Pesce is one of the pioneers in Virtual Reality and works as a writer, researcher and teacher.

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